


and if they get me

by wondercurls1917



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: (tumblr user enbypartypoison we need to make that an official ao3 tag), Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Fluff, Fun Ghoul is on the Autism Spectrum sorry I don't make the rules :/, Minor Injuries, Other, They/Them Pronouns for Party Poison, Unconsciousness, implied trauma, it's not bad i promise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:28:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21883771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wondercurls1917/pseuds/wondercurls1917
Summary: Fun Ghoul is captured by Better Living Industries. It's Party Poison's job to get him back safe and sound.a 2019 danger days gift exchange for tumblr user @/datttoyd hope u like it :)
Relationships: Fun Ghoul/Party Poison (Danger Days)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 70
Collections: 2019 Danger Days Holiday Gift Exchange





	and if they get me

**Author's Note:**

> warning for anxiety bits and implied trauma from bli!!!
> 
> otherwise hope you enjoy :D

“Oh, _fuck_ me,” Party groaned because, really, _fuck_ them.

Jet was trying to wake Kobra up somewhere behind them, as the dracs that’d been sent after their crew had been ordered to capture, not kill, meaning their rayguns were set to stun. The pod of white vans retreating toward the horizon—i.e., Battery City and BL/ind—carried with them one very unconscious Fun Ghoul, who’d been hit before the fight began. It’d immediately alerted the rest of them to the presence of the draculoids, and Party had tried— _Destroya,_ they’d tried—to protect Ghoulie the whole time, but their little brother had gotten pistol whipped and then stunned from point blank and it’d thrown them off a step, _a single step, how could I be so stupid as to—_

They’d get nowhere from berating themself. They needed to get to shelter, they needed to rest and heal, and they needed to break into the city to get their Ghoul back.

“Party,” Jet called a little weakly.

“Huh?” Party Poison twisted, frowning, to look at Jet Star and _why was he looking so pale what had they done to Kobra what had they done—_

“He’s not gonna be able to ride on his bike,” the older Killjoy said grimly. “We gotta leave it behind and come back for it, pray nobody comes by and sees it, lest they steal it.”

“That shit won’t slide, Jet,” Party growled, feeling too worn and too angry, and _fuck,_ why the _hell_ had they let Better Living take their Ghoulie? “We’ll call Pony and Cherri. Cherri knows how to ride a motorbike and—”

“Agent Cherri Cola,” Jet Star ground out, looking frustrated and older than his years, “is out of commission, remember? BL/ind took his ass, too, not so long ago, or did you forget _that_ mission?”

Party flinched. _Yes,_ they recalled that mission, how they’d taken The Girl, how it’d taken them two weeks to get her and then two more to get him, how they’d sent Cherri in alone and he was _tooyoungtooyoungtooyoung he looks so much like Kobra, too much like Kobra, oh God, he looks so small just laying there Pony why does he look like that we need to fix—_

“You’re right,” they said, sighing, and went over to him to help pick up Kobra and bring him to the trans am. “Get on your bike, I’ll get him back to— the station.”

_ Why had they almost said the Diner the Diner was compromised you stupid— _

“Yeah…” Jet Star sighed as well, picking up his helmet. He held it between his large hands for a long moment, looking out on the scene of battle: scorch marks in the sand, eight dead dracs total, Fun Ghoul’s frankenmask. He picked up the mask, tucking into his jacket, in the pocket there. “Let’s go. I’ll see you at the station. We’ll come back at first light to collect Kobra Kid’s bike, yeah?”

Party nodded, frowned, and— the sun was turning red in the west. They buckled Kobra into the backseat, and then went back grab their brother’s helmet and once more to help Jet lay the bike down flat on its side—harder to spot from a moving car on the road this way, but not impossible and certainly _very_ possible by Tumbleweeds moving on skates or BMX packs, those left. Then they got in their car—a damn good car, if they did say so themself, which they did—and tried not to think of how long Ghoul would be trapped in the white van before he got to Battery City, how long he would be inside Battery City, how long it would _take_ them to get him _out_ of—

They drove to Dr. Death Defying’s radio station.

~*~

_ “Go!” Cherri shoved The Girl forward, and she went dazedly, shuffling as though fresh from not enough sleep. “Take her! Don’t worry about me, go! Get her to safety, get her to safety, Party, I will  _ not _take no for an answer!”_

_ Party picked up The Girl, tucked her close to their chest like she was something they could keep in their pocket, precious and powerful. “Cherri, we’ll come back for you!” they shouted over the fray as they ducked away from The Cage, and they rushed beneath the closing doors of the Vault where they’d kept The Girl and Cherri. Then, before the door shut completely, “We  _ will _come back for you! Stay safe, Cherri, that’s an order!”_

_ The Vault door slammed shut with a resounding BOOM and— _

—Party jolted awake on their cot, sweating terribly and too cold. They looked around the room they shared for a few terrified moments, spotted Kobra curled up faintly under Jet’s arm, saw Pony on their brother’s open side, and did not see Fun Ghoul. Out in the booth, they could hear someone running the radio show, but Dr. D didn’t run it this late (early).

“—all you need to carry on is a glimpse of the ghost that haunts your waking hours,” Cherri Cola was saying, muted in the pre-dawn, sounding tired and all too awake at the same time. “Then you can almost pretend it’s you in your own skin and not some stranger playing under there like maggots and flies. There is absolutely nobody who can strip you of your power; whoever told you otherwise was choking on their lies.”

Party listened until Cherri signed off, and turned to the empty space on their cot where Ghoul usually sprawled, where he should’ve been helplessly writhing in his sleep for some relief he could not describe when Party asked him.

Then, when the sun peeked in through the tattered blinds and Party Poison realized they’d not slept at all since they’d woken up, they got up, put their clothes on, and waited for Jet to get up at his usual time. It wasn’t a long wait at all—five minutes, tops. Then, they drove out to the spot in dry, cool first light and watched as Jet Star mounted their brother’s bike. They waited until Jet had revved it for a few minutes, as it had frozen a little in the chill of desert nighttime, and then they went back to the station.

It was time to figure out how to get their Ghoul back.

~*~

In the end, it took three long days total to get Ghoul out of Bat City.

Party Poison knew the layout of the building from the rescue mission not long ago. It hadn’t changed, save for minor repairs, but they were smart about it this time and came in the dead of night: they could not risk leaving without Fun Ghoul. It wasn’t in the cards, wasn’t a choice, wasn’t an option. The Fabulous Killjoys were leaving all together or they would die trying. Period, full stop.

There was no other way. They’d sneak in at the least-worked hours of night—Party Poison, Jet Star, and Show Pony, since Kobra was still out for the count by the stun blast alone—and they’d get Ghoul, and they’d get out. Take out all enemies in the way, Party and Pony running point, Jet watching their sixes.

The breakout itself was sort of anticlimactic. There were all of five agents they ran into collectively, all taken down without any shouts or alerts to their locations. Any cameras they spotted were blown to dust by Pony. Party checked halls for enemy patrollers, or lack thereof. Jet Star blew locks off their doors, or would’ve, had there been many locked doors.

The only locked door was Fun Ghoul’s. Jet Star blew the keypad to smithereens and kicked it in.

Party carried him out of the facility, Jet Star ahead of them and Show Pony behind. Ghoulie stayed still and unconscious throughout the whole journey.

~*~

When Fun Ghoul awoke, he was wrapped tightly in a familiar pair of arms with a triangle of sunlight warming the side of his neck. He felt sluggish and dazed in the new dawn, and moving was difficult, so he hunkered back down into the sand-warmed body beside him, tucking a semi-cold nose against a long, tanned throat.

“Ghoulie,” Party hummed, brushing one delicate hand through long, recently-tamed hair. “You awake, Ghoulie?”

Fun Ghoul rasped a noise of dissent, squirming further into Party Poison’s semicolon arch, grasping hands in their sleep tank top. He took a deep breath; it filled his lungs as though he hadn’t breathed in the last week, which made him wake up a little. The scent of his datemate brought clarity like he hadn’t had in… Huh. How long? How long had it been? Surely he hadn’t went to bed, last he remembered…

Which brought him to the topic of the last thing he remembered. The last thing Fun Ghoul could clearly recall was being out in the desert, Zone 3, speaking with Party Poison. They were saying something about… cannibal-something? He didn’t get it, but then there had been a bright burst of pain at the back of his head and— nothing. Then, fuzzy patches of fighting and screaming and _whitewhitewhite why couldn’t he breathe where was he where was Party why hadn’t Party come whywhywhywhywhy—_

“Ghoul, hey,” a soothing thread of a voice called, tight with desperation lacing it. “Fun Ghoul, we’re in D’s radio shack, we’re safe. You’re _safe,_ Ghoulie. We got you out, that was— thirty hours ago. We’re all here. Take as long as you need.”

Ghoul held tight to Party for a long time, shaking. Then, when his back ached from being supine for far too long, he tapped Party Poison’s chest and they pulled away.

“Lemme off the bed,” he said, and they did. He stood on wobbling, throbbing knees and reached for Party’s hand. Party, thankfully, knew what he was asking for and they lead him from the backroom to the main part of the radio shack without hassle.

The Kobra Kid was asleep on his hand, which didn’t happen often. Jet Star and Show Pony were having a hushed conversation over Kobra’s head as the two of them ate, and Cherri Cola had joined them.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, Fun Ghoul,” Cherri greeted, sounding morbid but relieved.

On cue, the Girl came racing out of Dr. Death Defying’s booth and wrapped her arms around Ghoul’s thighs; they were the highest part of him she could reach. He patted her head, the most affection he could muster other than holding hands, and let Jet come to get his cousin so Party could lead him to the table.

“Kobes,” Party nudged as they sat, and they took the inside seat, which Ghoul would be eternally grateful for. “Kobra? Dude, wake up, you still got half a can of Power Pup.”

“Huh?” Kobra blinked blearily, then blinked again upon seeing Fun Ghoul and smiled, looking as dazed as he felt. “Oh. Hey, man, good to see you again. Hate to say it, but I’m not gonna finish my Pup today, Party.”

“Good,” Ghoul said, reaching out to take Kobra’s abandoned can and fork. “I wouldn’t have been able to finish mine, either.”

And then Party Poison turned their sunray-bright smile to him, leaned down to kiss him, and Ghoul was loathe to think they tasted anything less than home.


End file.
